


Sincerest Form of Flattery

by blackwolfmajik



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 14:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19906888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackwolfmajik/pseuds/blackwolfmajik
Summary: A relaxing evening is ruined by someone trying to call in a bounty for "Emperor Arcann". Post-Theron, (LS) Sith Inquisitor, Arcann.





	Sincerest Form of Flattery

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: T for Situations (just to be safe, there isn't really anything that bad in here - just questionable Sithy stuff)
> 
> AN: Takes place after the 'Theron Incident' and in this particular play it didn't end well. For reference, Inlérah is a human (LS) Sith Sorcerer

**Sincerest Form of Flattery**

"Don't move, Outlander."

Inlérah paused, glass half raised to her lips as she felt a blaster press against her skull. A subtle message to her companion stopped him from taking actions that might escalate the encounter further. "Do I know you?" she asked the unseen assailant.

The voice was male, cutting through the sudden dip in noise as the other cantina patrons noticed a brewing fight. "No, but I know _you_. You're the one they call Darth Imperious, the Alliance Commander. No matter how many fancy titles you have, you're still a murderer."

"Murderer? I admit that I've killed a lot of people in my time. So, you'll have to forgive me when I say: you'll need to be more specific. Whom do you believe I murdered?"

"Believe? Everyone _knows_ you butchered our Emperor, the great Valkorion!"

It was fortunate that the thug was standing behind Inlé and missed how her eyes rolled in exasperation.

"Even in true death he plagues me," she muttered. It wasn't the first time she had been confronted by a former soldier seeking revenge. She raised her voice so the man could hear: "I admit I killed him, _twice_ in a manner of speaking. But 'butchered' is a tad dramatic..."

Inlé was still sober enough to recognize it wasn't the best time to be flippant. However, she had grown tired of having to explain herself to people blinded by fanaticism.

The Sith woman started to turn around, but her assailant nudged her with the weapon once more.

"I should avenge him and cut out your heretic tongue for what you did," he growled, clearly annoyed by her dry response. "But there is someone else who wants your head even more: _Emperor Arcann_. He's put a bounty on your head."

"Is that a _fact?_ " Inlé's brows rose at the man seated across from her.

The surprise and confusion on Arcann's scarred face appeared as genuine as hers. When the former Zakuulan prince opened his mouth to protest his innocence, she nudged him once more to keep silent.

_I did not have anything to do with this,_ he implored telepathically _. On my life and honor, I swear it._

The Sith held his gaze firmly as she weighed the truth of his words.

Arcann had been a steadfast companion in the year since he had abandoned his throne and swore his life to her cause. His actions during the final battle against his father were critical in turning the tide of victory and saved Inlé from being permanently possessed by Valkorion's ghost. As grateful as she was for Arcann's assistance, she was still wary of the unexpected price of their alliance. The intensity of the mental combat fused their Force signatures together, tangling their souls like strands of a metaphysical spider web. Though the effects were limited, they could trade thoughts, strong emotions, and even sense each other's location over considerable distances.  
Sharing a mindspace with another soul was nothing new for the sorcerer. Inlé had been possessed by a group of ancient Sith Lords while she was still an apprentice and learning to manage their domineering personalities while keeping her own sanity had been no small accomplishment.

At least Arcann was gracious enough to apologize for the occasional awkward moment...

One key advantage the bond provided over more typical partnerships was that the intimate connection made it nearly impossible to lie. This fact helped quell her suspicions of Arcann's involvement in the current standoff.

_Who knew growing your hair out and ditching your armor would be an adequate disguise,_ she replied. _They clearly don't recognize you without your mask. Someone else is trading on your good name, you think?_

_So it seems._

_We'll just have to get them to introduce us then._

_How do-_

"The Emperor will want to put you on trial and pass judgement. Come with us now, quietly, I don't want any more innocents to die."

Inlé hid her smile in the last sip of her drink before setting the glass back on the table. "Well, we wouldn't want to keep the _Emperor_ waiting, would we?"

"I'm glad you appreciate the gravity of your situation. Hands on the bar so we can take your weapons."

"You-"

" _Stop_."

Arcann's mouth snapped shut hard enough to click his teeth. His entire body shook with the need to defend himself, but he complied with Inlé's order and allowed the blaster on his belt to be taken. The pistol was a decoy for the real weapon strapped inside his prosthetic forearm, but she could feel how much it rankled him to even appear defenseless.

"Good lad, listen to the lady and no heroics." The man sounded smug, but under the bravado was the faintest tremor of relief.

_We could kill them all, Commander. They can't-_

_No. Save your rage for their boss._

"Get up, Outlander. Slowly."

"Before I do," the Sith paused. "Tell me: what will happen to my companion?"

"Your boyfriend? We don't need him, the Emperor just wants you."

Inlé barely had time to process the man's mistaken assumption before the muzzle on the back of her head shifted.

"He's not just my boyfriend, he's my _second in command_ ," she said quickly, giving Arcann another warning glance to remain silent. "Kill him now if you want, but it would be _quite the coup_ if you were able to _capture us together._ Don't you think? _Twice the glory_ and the Emperor would have the chance to _exact his revenge directly."_

She laced her words with the Force to ensure they took root, subtly playing up the man's clear need to feel superior. Cognitive manipulation was a tricky thing, but experience had honed Inlé's mental abilities to a razor's edge.

A simple thug posed no challenge.

"Yes," the man said absently. "Twice the...glory..."

At an unseen signal, several others stepped forward from the watching crowd to drag the two 'criminals' from their seats.

_This is madness!_ Arcann groused, indignation coloring the mental tone of his voice.

_A bit flattering as well,_ Inlé replied soothingly. _Think of it this way: how often do you get to meet such an obvious fan of yours?_

_That isn't funny._

_Perhaps not, but it will be an interesting distraction. Things have been so serious since Ther-_ Her thought cut off with a painful twinge, but she rallied quickly. _A change of pace would be nice. Besides, we can't leave rebel cells festering after all the work_ _we've done to get the galaxy back on track. Don't you agree... **Sweetheart**?_

Arcann balked violently enough that one of the guards shoved a blaster under his chin to forestall any possible escape. _That...that isn't amusing either.  
_

Before she was able to tease the former prince further, their captor snatched her around roughly to face him.

"Your power is well known, Outlander. So we prepared these especially for you," the thug reached into a pouch and pulled out a set of ornate binders.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Arcann stiffen, but any help he could have offered was negated by the weapon at his throat.

The man snapped the cuffs around the Inlé's wrists and she learned why her companion had been worried.

"Force suppression binders? Perhaps you're not as foolish as you look," she mocked to cover her sudden unease.

"They're calibrated to electrocute you into unconsciousness if you so much as twitch your fingers wrong. So please, _test_ them. I'd love to see you twitching on the floor."

Another guard produced a set of simpler restraints for Arcann and once they were secure, the motley group prepared to leave the cantina like a formal escort.

"One last thing," called out the leader. He stepped close to Inlé and reached into his pocket to withdraw a ball of black cloth. "I can't risk you causing trouble or being recognized before I've presented you to the Emperor."

"Don't want anyone else to steal your moment of triumph, is that it?"

The man's fists tightened, but he didn't give in to the urge to strike. "Something like that."

The last thing Inlé saw was his yellowed sneer as he yanked the cloth over her head. By the angry grunt to her left, she knew Arcann had likely been hooded as well.

A vehicle was waiting outside and the captives were forced to climb awkwardly into the back. All around them, the men were tense with a mix of excitement and fear. No doubt they were thinking of the rewards that awaited them.

The Sith dug her fingers into the armored cloth of her robes to hide the fact they were trembling. Most Sensitives didn't suffer any ill effects from being cut off from the Force for short periods of time, but Inlé was an unfortunate exception. A spellcasting prodigy from a young age, she had always been highly attuned to the Darkside and energy suffused her body as much as the blood in her veins. Being cut off from the Force was like being left adrift in an airless vacuum, unable to breathe, hear or see.

A black tide of _panic_ began to swell inside Inlé's chest and she tried to drown out the thunder of her heart by singing under her breath.

"Quiet!" barked one of the men, punctuating his command with a blow to her head.

She hissed, tasting blood and all consuming fury until the cuffs around her wrists hummed in warning. Inlé forced herself to relax but her mind flew from thought to thought like a bird chased by a predator.

_Is this how Darth Marr felt before he died? Was he afraid? What did Sateel say when he showed up on her doorstep? 'Hi there! I know we were enemies, but funny story - I got killed by the Emperor and now I'm a Force Ghost! Who knew Sith could do that, huh?'_

Inlé shivered. _Trapped less than five minutes and I'm already going mad...  
_

She even missed Arcann. After months of feeling her one-time enemy lurking in the corners of her mind, Inlé was shocked to feel a hollow ache where the cuffs blocked his presence.

As if somehow sensing her anxiety, she felt a familiar boot press against hers: Arcann's small gesture of _"You're not alone. I'm here."  
_

The Sith took another deep breath and tried to swallow past the scream building in her throat. _He's right. He's here. He's still right here with me. We beat the worst the Galaxy has to offer, together. We will do it again. These thugs are nothing_ _but **ashes** waiting to fall._

The group traveled for quite some time, the scents and noise of the city washing over them in uncaring waves. There was the sound of a loudspeaker in the distance, but nothing concrete to give away their location.

Inlé focused on breathing techniques to keep from counting the passing seconds.

After an eternity, the vehicle slowed to a stop and their guards shoved them roughly out. They had paused at what was clearly a security checkpoint.

"What do you want, Dazil?"

"I've brought a gift for the Emperor."

"A gift?" Disbelief was thick in the stranger's voice. "Slaves get delivered to the harbor side, you know that."

"They're not slaves, they're...important political prisoners."

"Not with tits like that. You find her on the red markets? She got a face to match or is the hood to keep the nightmares away?"

The rough sound of male laughter pulled at the last threads of Inlé's sanity.

"Why don't you take off the mask and find out?" she taunted, startling them into silence.

"Cheeky _slut_. Maybe I will-"

" _Do. Not. TOUCH. Her._ " Arcann roared, surprising even the Sith with his vehemence.

Despite paying for his outburst with a brutal punch in the stomach, the former prince's warning still had an effect.

"Right...don't touch her," Dazil said in reluctant agreement. "I don't want to have to explain to the Emperor why she is damaged before he has had a chance at her."

"Fine. Whatever," the guard sounded sulky. "Go wait in the hall with the rest of the rabble. I'll have these two put in a cage until your number is called."

"No. I don't trust you, Kevish. I've heard what you and your boys did to Syvok's Alderaanian ale."

"You-"

"I'm not taking any risks. Believe me, these prisoners need to be kept intact. Understand?"

"Fine! Your men can follow Rigs to the dungeon and stay there to guard your... _prizes_."

"Good." With the deal made, Dazil quickly handed out assignments before walking away.

More hands grabbed Inlé's arms and she felt the warmth of the sun disappear as she was dragged into a nearby building. Scents of spices and cooking food wafted through the hood, melding with the rank stink of the canvas cloth over her face.

The air got progressively colder as they traveled down sloping corridors and several flights of stairs. She had long since lost track of the route to the surface, but she didn't really want to escape without _thanking_ their host. The group paused for a moment after another long hallway and she heard the sound of a rusted hinge opening. Next, she and Arcann were roughly shoved into a room that felt small even for a prison cell.

"All right," said one of their captors in thickly accented Basic. "You wait here. We right at door, no funny business."

A set of footsteps trailed away, but the sounds of quiet conversation told Inlé that a few guards remained behind.

Not waiting another moment, she scrabbled at the hood and felt it yanked off for her.

Arcann looked concerned as he tossed the wretched cloth aside and checked her over for injuries.

"I'm fine," she lied.

"You're _bleeding_ ," he countered, trying to examine the lump on her temple.

"What can I say, they're not fans of my charming personality."

He grimaced. "I still say we should have killed them."

"The longer these cuffs are on, the more inclined I am to agree with you."

"We will get out of here," Arcann said fiercely. "Then we will pay them back for every second they kept you chained."

"We will." She tried to give him a brave face despite how her limbs trembled. "I'm good. Really."

His blue eyes were intense, as if he was trying to read the inside of her skull through sheer force of will.

Years of Sith politics had made Inlé a suspicious creature by nature, but the concern in Arcann's bearing tugged at the edges of her wounded heart.

_Stupid girl, I thought Theron cared for me too-_

Inlé crushed the little voice in the back of her mind before it could cause more trouble.

It was true that she and Arcann had once been trying to kill each other with savage abandon, but that seemed light years away from the intimate space they now shared.

"We should see if our captors left us anything to use," she whispered to break the tension.

Arcann blinked and took a self-conscious step backward. "Agreed."

The barren cell had a dirt-floor and was approximately three meters square with a door of heavy iron bars. The light was dim, cast from the hallway by archaic torches that stank of animal fat. The sconces were well out of reach of their cage and therefore no help as weapons or tools.

Peering through the gaps in the cell bars, Inlé could see her estimation of four guards was correct. They stood on the far end of the corridor, still within sight but distant enough that conversation was distorted by the echoing walls.

The mere handful of men was insulting to her combat abilities, but she was sure there would be more soldiers on the way if she kicked up a fuss.

"I'll say this for him: your doppelganger has an _aesthetic_."

"He has more than that," Arcann growled under his breath. "For now at least."

She smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant expression.

The former emperor looked down at his wrists. "His men are woefully incompetent. My binders were not intended for a Force user."

"Mine are," she held her cuffs up so he could examine them closer.

He frowned as he studied the glyphs carved into the durasteel. "That man wasn't lying: these are from Zakuul and they will do as he promised."

"Is it too much to hope you know the trick for unlocking them?"

"They secure based on a paired key card. Without it...I would need to use my saber and that will draw attention."

"Right," she sighed. "As much as I want these cuffs off, I would rather keep the element of surprise on our side. They were clearly prepared for _'The Outlander'_ , but they should have anticipated that I would have had company."

"It shows a lack of research or perhaps they simply seized the opportunity when they spotted you in the cantina. It isn't that surprising. They appear to be simple mercenaries, I recognized a few of their sigils."

"That can be useful. Mercs go where the money is."

"Perhaps, but it brings us no closer to knowing who their false emperor is."

"I imagine we will find that out soon." Inlé cast a glance at their guards. Their conversation was too quiet for her to hear, but body language and suspicious glares were enough clues as to the subject of discussion.

"How are you holding up, Commander?" Arcann's brow furrowed in concern once more. "I...I know you-"

"I'm trying to think of a Corellian drinking song I heard once, but I don't remember the words." She shook her head, trying to rattle her thoughts back into order. Inlé hated feeling vulnerable. _A weak Sith is a dead Sith_. It was a mark of how much of a difference a year made that she trusted Arcann to see her in such a state. "Talk to me. I need the distraction."

"As you wish." He looked thoughtful for a few moments, the scarred side of his face mostly hidden in the fall of long brown hair. "Did...did I tell you about the how Thexan and I created our first sabers?"

"No," she studied him carefully. "Val told me what happened to your brother...it seemed a subject best left alone until you were ready."

Arcann frowned, grief and guilt clutching at his heart with its dusty fingers. "I will carry my crime with me for the rest of my life. There is nothing I can do but try to make myself into the man he believed I could be."

"Given what you've done for the Alliance since you've been with us, I think you're well on your way."

He flashed her a bleak smile. "Perhaps."

"Tell me," she asked softly. "What was your first saber like?"

He began in fits and starts, but soon found a rhythm and the words flowed out of him like a river. Inlé let herself get entranced by the way Arcann's deep voice resonated off the stone walls and felt her hysteria ease. He was a natural storyteller and she reminded herself that his mother had been as much a bard as a soldier. The thought of Arcann singing tickled something in the back of her mind and Inlé hid a smile to keep from interrupting his tale.

As relaxing as his presence was, she couldn't ignore that the cell was frigid and a draft curling through the passageway made her shiver.

Arcann paused, hesitating a long moment before he closed the distance between them. Lifting his arms over Inlé's head, he slipped his bound wrists down past her shoulders to settle around her waist. The circle of his arms trapped the Sith woman against his chest and she felt adrenaline rocket through her veins.

" _What are-_ "

"You're chilled," he muttered. "Besides, the guards are looking and you said we're...pretending to be..."

She swallowed her instinctive fight reflex and thundering heart to watch him struggle with his own discomfort. The confidence he had showed while telling his story had evaporated and he looked flustered, like a teen with his first-

_Oh._

Despite herself, Inlé blushed as well. She thought about how she had teased him earlier and a tiny spark of crazed mischief grew in her belly. _Well then..._

Before she could second guess the wisdom of her actions, she raised her own arms to loop them around his neck in return.

The nearly foot difference in height made the embrace awkward and forced Arcann to lean over to keep from straining her shoulders.

"Comm-?"

She kissed him.

Arcann froze.

When he didn't respond, Inlé pulled back enough to look him in the eye.

"Not to your liking?" Her voice was husky, betrayed only by a slight disappointed hitch in the tone. When he didn't respond, she started to lift her wrists from his neck but he stopped her with a hoarse command.

"Wait." He tightened his arms, preventing her from drawing away further. "That isn't...it's not that at all."

She waited for him to gather his thoughts and explain.

"I...I just wanted our first kiss to be...special. Somewhere as beautiful as you are..."

" _First_ kiss?" Inlé blinked up at him in disbelief. "You've thought of kissing me before?"

"Many times," he admitted, the flush on his cheeks highlighting the white hash-work of scars. "I...just never thought you would...return my affections."

"You've been in my head for over a year."

"I didn't want to invade your privacy," Arcann mumbled. "So much of my life was orchestrated by my father, I wanted...I _need_ your feelings for me to be real, without my influence. So I kept my desires hidden."

"You hid them well." Her golden eyes reflected the dim light like a cat, wishing for the millionth time that the suppression binders were off. She very much wanted to see what he was thinking, find proof that he was being honest. "I hope a dank enemy cell isn't what you had in mind for a romantic encounter."

"No, but... _you're_ here. That makes it perfect."

_A first crush indeed. Next he'll be writing me sonnets_ _._ Out loud, Inlé's laugh was bitter with the experience of a heart broken too many times. "Trust me, I'm not perfect."

"You are to me," he whispered fiercely. The absolute certainty in his gaze made her almost believe it.

_A bloody romantic, sure. But he's not a boy,_ she reminded herself sternly. _Arcann's old enough to know what he's doing and make his own mistakes._

_And if he fucks up...well, I know what to do about_ that _too..._

She let Arcann kiss her again and mewled with frustration that had been building for months. She hadn't touched, or been touched, by anyone for months and desire scorched the nerve endings under her skin.

She thought he tasted like whiskey, dark and dangerous.

Threading her fingers through Arcann's hair, she tugged at the fine strands and felt him shiver. Encouraged, she used her teeth along his jawline and was rewarded with a deep groan that sounded like it had clawed out of his chest.

_What would it be like when the bracers were off and we could both dip into the Force through the shared bond?_ _What would it be like to feel each other's-_

"Hey!"

The harsh bark from the cell door broke through the lustful haze in Inlé's mind.

"Unless you're going to give us all a turn, you better break that up!" the guard leered.

Force-blind or no, the Sith felt Arcann's annoyance from being interrupted bloom into outraged fury at the guard's words. His muscles corded tight under her arms and she was certain that images of the thug's painful death were painted in scarlet inside the former tyrant's mind.

It was a heady sensation to know such a powerful man was ready to leap to her defense, but now was not the time for such chivalry.

"Goals, Sweetling," she purred quietly. "Keep an eye on the prize."

Inlé's firm whisper dragged Arcann's gaze back to hers and she watched the red tint to his irises settle back to a cool blue.

"I'm looking at the only prize I want," he murmured.

"Charming," her kiss bruised lips tilted in a half smile. "Sadly, we will have to continue this after we confront your doppelganger."

He tightened his arms around her hips a moment longer to let her _feel_ how much he was looking forward to keeping that promise.

Reluctantly, they disentangled themselves from each other and tried to ignore the renewed chill without their shared body heat.

"The Emperor will see you love birds now," the guard said in a mocking tone. "Maybe if you're lucky, he'll let you have a last kiss before you die!"

The others laughed, ignoring Arcann's scowl and the amused smirk of the Outlander.

"The Emperor is granting requests? Maybe I'll ask him to make you a footstool," she countered with a feral grin. Leaning over to Arcann, she whispered theatrically: "You know how I have trouble reaching the top shelf in the armory, I could use a good footstool."

"You could," he agreed.

"A _foolstool_!" Inlé cackled at her own joke, making the thugs shift nervously.

"Shut up!" the guard captain snapped. "Just get moving!"

The walk back up the stairs was much slower than the descent, but that could have been due to the anticipation bubbling in Inlé's veins. When they reached the main floor the escort turned them toward a more opulent hallway that stretched far beyond the common entrance gallery.

Familiar with the clean elegance of the Eternal Spire, the false emperor's palace was jarring in its overt gaudy display. Everywhere was gold and crystal, making the captured pair feel like they were inside a decorator's gilded nightmare. Paintings and tapestries choked the walls, interspersed with sculptures and fountains of sparkling water. Ranks of gold-painted Skytrooper droids stood like sentries at each doorway, their rifles at parade rest.

At the end of the grand promenade were several statues, each at least ten meters tall and slathered with more gold paint. They recognized the features of the royal family: Thexan, Vaylin and Arcann himself.  
In the center looming above them all was the all too familiar face of a ghost.

_Valkorion_.

Inlé and Arcann paused for a moment, each riveted in their own way by the harsh and demanding glare of the former emperor.

"That's right, you'll be seeing him real soon." The guard captain growled as he shoved the pair ahead of him.

"Maybe, but not before you do."

"What?"

"Just that if you push me again, I'll hang you from Val's neck before I burn this eyesore to the ground."

The guard blinked several times, as if he were trying to understand a difficult puzzle. His broad features drooped into a scowl and spat in her face before shoving her forward once more.

Arcann lunged with an outraged snarl and three of the other men had to hold him back.

It was a known fact that Darth Imperious was immensely merciful by Sith standards, but even she had a limit. Inlé wiped the spittle from her face with an armored sleeve and smiled brightly at the captain. "For _that_...you'll still be _alive_ when this place burns."

Not waiting for his retort, she turned and walked serenely ahead.

More guards, these in formal Zakuulan armor, were waiting at the grand entrance of the throne room. They opened the hammered brass doors with precision and a page scurried to announce them. The man paled when he read the script but kept the tremble in his voice to a minimum:

"Lords and Ladies, Esteemed and Ever Eternal Emperor Arcann. I present to you, the villain known as... _The Outlander_ -" there were gasps around the court as the page continued- "Darth Imperious Inlérah, Scion of House Kallig, Leader of the Eternal Alliance and the Imperial Sith Empire. Murderer of the great Eternal Emperor Valkorion and his daughter, High Justice Vaylin. The 'Scourge of Zakuul' and her consort were captured by Zefran Dazil, second son of Quorin Dazil of the Southern Reach Marauders."

The crowd of nobles jostled each other to take a better look at the monster they had only seen on holovids. Inlé ignored them all.

Dazil, nervous and dressed in ill-fitting finery, stumbled forward into what he thought was a respectful bow.

"G-great and illust-"

Scoffing at his stuttered petition, Inlé strode forward a few paces with the grace of a warrior queen.

Guards went on alert and brandished their saber pikes in her direction to halt her progress. "You will not approach the throne!"

"And how is the great Emperor supposed to see me if I'm all the way down here and he's up there?" she asked smoothly. Her voice carried to the far corners of the room and everyone held their breath.

The pikes were steady, but she could feel their hesitation.

"How is he to know that I'm really whom this... _Dazil_ claims I am if he can't see my face? After all, I've fought against the Emperor before. He would be the best judge to know if I'm a fake."

There was movement at the top of the dais as the monarch finally looked up from his platter of delicacies to pay attention to the court. A sticky finger trembled slightly as it pointed to the Sith. "You...you were supposed to be dead!"

"Dead? I'm afraid you are mistaken. Though if you are talking about the _traitors_ in my house...they have been dealt with." Inlé paused, affecting a puzzled frown. "Are you ill, your majesty? You sound... _strange_."

The false emperor straightened in his throne. "I am quite well!"

Suddenly, the Sith's cruel laughter echoed through the hall, making more than one patron shiver. "My, my! You have _aged_ quite a bit since last I saw you! It's almost like you are someone _completely different_! What do you think, _Arcann_?" She motioned to the man who had followed close behind. "I don't think he looks anything like you, even with the mask."

"I know him," Arcann growled, furious gaze riveted on the impostor. He raised his voice to bellow: "Magistrate Jenner! You served my father for twenty years before you were caught embezzling from the treasury. Valkorion threw you out of the Spire and banished you from office! How dare you try to falsely rule in my name!"

" _Prince Ar_ -" The old man on the throne squealed, his eye not hidden by a replica of Arcann's face mask popped wide. Clearly he was not fooled by the former tyrant's changes as his men were.

"People of Zakuul! This man is not the emperor, he is a charlatan taking advantage of your-"

Jenner quickly recovered and yelled through the confusion: "LIES! _Kill the impostors now!_ "

With a snarl, Arcann's binders shattered as he drew on the Force to free himself. He snatched a pike from a startled guard and quickly went on the defensive. The men were dressed like Knights but were not well trained soldiers.

Chaos erupted as nobles and petitioners alike scrambled to escape the growing scuffle on the court floor. A few faces continued to watch from the raised galleries, curiosity winning out over caution.

"Skytroopers! Voice recognition override!" Arcann shouted as he blocked a clumsy strike from one of the guards. "Authorization code: _Cobol-four-four-six-theta-nine_!"

Along the walls, the inert droids stirred to life. "-Voice print recognized. Awaiting new orders, Prince Arcann.-"

"Seal the building and detain anyone who tries to escape. Deadly force is authorized."

"-Orders acknowledged.-"

The screams ratcheted higher as the droid soldiers began to wade through the crowd with purpose. Guards who hadn't been directly involved in the confrontation were confused and slow to react to the changing dynamics of the melee.

Pivoting from another thrusting attack, Arcann used the pike's glowing blade to cut through the hinge on Inlé's cuffs, deactivating the suppression controls.

Shaking her hands free of the ruined binders, Inlé sighed in relief as the full strength of the Force return to her fingertips. She gave the soldiers around her a shark-like grin before sending them flying backward from an explosion of concussive power.

Tendrils of lightning crawled across their bodies and rooted them to the ground with a static charge yards from where they originally stood.

"Now, where is that captain who was so rude earlier?" she asked over the din. "I believe I made him a promise and I'd hate to break it by killing him early."

The false emperor snatched a blaster from the folds of his robe and started firing. One of the wild shots clipped Inlé's shoulder, making her hiss in pain.

Arcann snapped his head around in concern and almost lost a leg from the distraction. He shoved back his opponent and used the brief respite to flick his left wrist. The catches hidden inside his prosthetic arm popped loose and dropped his personal lightsaber into his waiting palm. Keeping the pike for himself, Arcann tossed his sword hilt to Inlé, knowing she would be better able to defend herself with the shorter weapon.

The golden blade burst outward at her touch, straight into the chest of the nearest mercenary. Sweeping the blade to the side rather than cleanly back out, Inlé sliced the man in half. The look of surprise remained frozen on the thug's face as he died.

The restored metaphysical connection between the two Force users hummed with excitement as they fought in tandem. Hyper-aware of each others movements, their battle looked more like a choreographed dance than combat.

Blaster bolts ricocheted off of the golden defensive shield Arcann raised while they worked to dispatch the waves of men trying to overwhelm their position. Inlé dropped down an instant before Arcann's pike swept over her head to decapitate a mercenary.

From under his arm, she lashed out a stream of lightning that incinerated three more. A group of soldiers with batons tried to rush the pair but were swept off their feet by a wave of Inlé's hand. Arcann chopped through the helpless men with ruthless efficiency and barely glanced at the carnage he left behind.

It was over in minutes.

Seeing the last of his men dispatched, the false emperor tried to escape but felt his muscles lock up inches from the curtained secret passageway.

"Now, now," Inlé mocked. "You don't get to slip away so easily. We were having a _trial_ as I recall. You should at least stick around for the verdict."

Jenner screeched as an invisible hand yanked him through the air and dropped him at the feet of the Outlander.

"Un-unhand me witch!"

"So unoriginal. I would have thought _a charlatan_ would be able to come up with a more elegant insult than that."

Inlé looked toward her companion. "Arcann? I believe you are the injured party here. What is your judgement?"

For a long time the former emperor just stared down at the disgraced adviser. "Why?" he demanded.

"Why what?"

"You _know_ what!"

"Why did I pretend to be you?" Jenner scoffed. "I was tired of being overlooked. Your family had everything: power, wealth, respect. I was the middle son of a merchant noble. I had little power, but I had _ambition_! The things I could have done with even a fraction of your abilities...but then the Emperor found out."

"Why didn't he kill you? Father was not one to suffer insults."

"He said he wanted me to live with my mistakes, to know what it is to lose everything. I vowed I would get back into the Spire, no matter what the cost!" Jenner turned his head to glare at the Sith. "Then _she_ came..."

_The Outlander._

"We thought your father truly immortal. But then he died, and then you disappeared. I saw my chance."

"Petty greed," Inlé muttered sourly. "Is that all you 'aspired' to?"

"I-"

Whatever Jenner had been about to say was lost in the hum of Arcann's pike cleaving through his skull.

"I heard enough," he growled.

The Sith woman simply nodded, content with his actions.

From the corridor, there were sounds of approaching footsteps and the pair readied for a fresh assault.

A skytrooper with sergeant engravings marched forward out of the shadows and saluted Arcann.

"-Prince Arcann,-" stated the droid in a flat monotone. "-Status report on successful mission available. Captured: one-hundred and twenty six. Casualties: thirty-one. Eighty-eight percent identified as Zakuulan descent. Seven percent identified as various

other humanoid species. Five percent identified as droids.-"

The former emperor nodded. "There are holding cells in the basement, escort and detain them there until further security forces arrive."

"Order confirmed."

The skytrooper moved off and additional droids gathered up the remaining survivors. Several tried to call out, begging for mercy from whom they now realized was the true Arcann.

He ignored them all and silence fell as the last of the prisoners were removed.

Inlé stood at the top of the dais, surveying the ruined hall like a proud artist. With a sigh, she swept debris off the cushion on Jenner's throne and settled herself on the opulent fabric.

Arcann slowly ascended the stairs and picked through the wreckage. When he withdrew his hand, he lifted up the discarded mask that had been modeled after his own. It was well crafted, functional, and would probably fit his face as perfectly as the one from a year past.

_So much had happened since then..._

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Inlé watching him.

"You look worried."

"Should I be?" she countered, voice carefully neutral.

For another long moment he studied the mask and then deliberately crushed it in his prosthetic hand. "No."

Arcann approached where she sat on the golden throne.

"For a moment, I thought I was looking at a ghost," she said quietly.

"Perhaps you were, but that man is dead," his blue eyes held hers. "I am _your_ man now."

A smile flicked across her dark lips, a rare true smile that he had only ever seen a handful of times before.

"You could have it back, you know. Clearly there are many who would support your return."

"No," he repeated with a weary sigh. "That would likely put us on opposite sides of the war again."

Inlé was silent, weighing the truth of his words as she felt them echo through their bond.

"When they put the cuffs on you, I...I couldn't _hear_ you, anymore. It was like a part of me was missing...like Thexan had died once more." Arcann deliberately knelt at her feet, gaze locked with hers. "I never wish to feel that again. I cannot change the past, I cannot give back what I took from you when I was...when I was a fool. I swear to spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of you."

Silence stretched between them as he waited for her reply.

The look in her golden eyes was frighteningly vulnerable, stripped of her own mask of Darth Imperious. "Is that what you really want?"

Arcann felt the threads of their entwined Force signatures sing with the tension between them. He took a deep breath and filled his soul with warmth and certainty, letting it spread through their bond to soothe her fears.

"Yes."

It was several more moments before she could speak, but he already knew her answer.

"Oh...well, ok then," she said quietly, dashing away the faint glitter of tears before he could see them. "I guess you're stuck with me."

A wide smile pulled at the scars on his cheek and Arcann kissed her thoroughly, whispering against her lips: "I will never leave your side, not even for an empire that spanned the universe."

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This all spawned from the line "Is that a fact?" and imagining the look on Arcann's face. I have agonized over this fic for months and I still wasn't sure I was going to post it. So, for better or worse - here it is. I'm sure I'll see a dozen more things I want to tweak 10mins after this gets posted, but what can you do - nothing is ever perfect.
> 
> Please let me know what you think! It's a small thing to leave a review (constructive criticism is always welcome!) but it means so much more than you might think. Knowing people are reading gives us the courage to keep posting.


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